Regrets, Resets, and Resolutions
by KageDanza
Summary: ...and when they all ruin everything. Frisk had planned for this to be the final reset, the timeline to end all timelines. Their lives were finally perfect! So when Sans does something none of them expected or wanted, Frisk is forced to reset again- and hope to all the gods they get it right this time. TRIGGER WARNING: self harm, suicide, and spoilers.
1. New Beginnings

This was it. The final reset.

No more playing around, Frisk decided. They'd explored every nook and cranny in the vast (but ultimately finite) Underground. They'd talked and talked every monster half to death- and sometimes completely there. They'd taken every possible turn, done every possible thing. And now here they were, with their perfect ending. Everyone happy. Even Flowey, to the greatest extent he could be. Everyone safe. Everyone satisfied. Like a veritable final Groundhog's Day.

They looked in the mirror Toriel had included in their new room. This meant no more fights. That was okay with them. They hated fighting anyway. It meant no more saying whatever came to mind. They'd have to speak carefully from now on. But heck, who wanted to live everything over that many times? It was exciting to have an uncertain future for once.

Half-stumbling down the stairs(they'd fought Sans for crying out loud, how were they still this clumsy), they smelled pie baking in the kitchen and their stomach grumbled. One of the many perks to living with Toriel was a never-ending supply of food, and really good food at that. It was already shaping up to be a fantastic new day.

Frisk didn't think to share their new resolution. Nobody else knew they could reset, after all. And now that it was over, there was no reason to divulge the information. They'd tried that once, and it'd gotten them institutionalized. Toriel, sweet lady she was, did not have an open mind about time travel enacted by eight year old children. Although Frisk could hardly blame her- it did sound absolutely insane.

Sometimes Frisk wondered if they _were_ insane after all.

Sometimes they wondered if they were in some strange form of afterlife, if they had died at the bottom of Mount Ebbot as they'd originally intended.

"Frisk, you're up quite early for a Saturday morning," Toriel greeted them warmly, a fresh pie steaming in her hands like a beacon of delicious.

"The sun woke me up," they replied with a grin, accepting a slice.

"Oh dear, would you like me to put up curtains for you?" The goat woman asked, and they shook their head.

"I like it," they said. "It's a nice change from the Underground, wouldn't you say?" They looked out the kitchen window. It was a beautiful day. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming...

"I suppose so," she laughed. Frisk couldn't help but laugh too, if not for the glow surrounding the morning then for the fact that Toriel's laughter was hilariously speckled with involuntary bleating.

If only they knew that just two doors down, a certain skeleton was remembering far more than he wished to. If only they knew that each morning, he woke up and fell apart inside a little more under the crushing wait of a reset never to come. If only they could see him, shaking and sobbing as they ate pie with Toriel at the breakfast table.

If only they knew what he was planning.


	2. I Gave Up A While Ago

Sans looked down at his skeletal hands. It was all he _could_ do, really. His soul was beating wildly, and every breath seemed suffocating. He knew that his eyes had been dark for far longer than he'd intended, but he couldn't seem to light them again.

God, how many resets had he gone through? He'd lost count at around three hundred. So many deaths. So many mornings waking up and not knowing who was still alive, and for how long. So many instances where he'd just stood by and watched as everything he loved was wrenched from his grasp. Had he ever tried? Surely not. He was too lazy. Too lazy to be of any use to anyone.

Until it was too late, of course. _Why,_ oh _why_ had he never once intervened? He chuckled mirthlessly, manically. How _stupid_ had he been to wait until everybody was dead to even lift a freaking finger? Why? Why had he not once tried to stop the kid? Was it really so hard to try and be like Papyrus for once, talking the kid out of their crazy genocide?

He knew why. And it sickened him. The resets. The kid could just erase everything if need be, and killing them early on would only result in premature death on his part. And nothing would've stood between the kid and Asgore. So many timelines...

He thought of Papyrus's dust-stained scarf in the snow, of Undyne's goopy remains drip-dripping through the slats in the wooden bridge. He thought of Toriel, her essence likely scattered through the Ruins before anyone could know she was gone. He thought of his own blood, his liquid determination. He thought of Grillby and his own final moments, hallucinating a happy ending.

He deserved each and every painful death for his apathetic approach to the murders of his loved ones. He of all people knew that just because he came through in the end didn't mean he wasn't to blame for everything he could've prevented. Corpses can't be rescued, and avenging the dead means nothing if you fail.

He looked up at the wall and something clicked. He deserved to be dead...

"SANS!" Papyrus called up to him, and he was snapped out of his stupor. "I NEED YOUR HELP WITH THIS SPAGHETTI!" He slid down from his bed, plodding down the stairs to the kitchen. He lit his eyes, grinning wide at his younger brother.

"sure thing, paps." The tall skeleton frowned, lugging the pot over to the stove.

"YOU HAVEN'T MADE A SINGLE PUN ALL MORNING. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT, BROTHER?"

"i figured i'd take it easy on you today. but if you'd like me to patella you a joke, i'd be pappy to." Papyrus groaned, all worry replaced by annoyance, albeit a bit of relief. Though he'd never admit to it.

Sans poured the raw noodles into the boiling water, accidentally splashing some onto his phalanges. He hissed in pain, and Papyrus snapped to attention in an instant.

"SANS, YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL!" He said, inspecting the burn. Sans's HP was down to 0.9. A figure he was used to, but worrying for Papyrus all the same.

"i'm fine, papyrus," sans said, voice strained. Papyrus tried to get out the last slice of leftover pie and give it to him, but he waved it away. "let's finish the pasta and i'll heal with that, okay?" Papyrus seemed satisfied with this, turning to his vegetables with new resolve. Sans leaned against the counter, nursing his hand.

"heh, remember that time in the hotlands with the lava?" he asked, and Papyrus looked over at him, a strange look coming across the younger one's face.

"YES..." Papyrus said cautiously. Sans looked over at him, realizing his mistake.

"not that one, the time when we went down and chucked rocks to see how high the lava would go." He laughed. "we had little bits of obsidian stuck on our bones for weeks." Papyrus laughed too, because back then it was okay to head down to the hotlands. Sans had so much health back then. So much HoPe.

They continued cooking in silence, comfortable on Papyrus's side and quite uncomfortable on Sans's side. Because for Sans, the memory of _that_ time was still lingering. And glancing over at Papyrus, he wondered if the knife in his brother's hand would still feel the same.


	3. For Being Older, You Sure Are Fragile

Papyrus wasn't an idiot. He knew how Sans was, and he knew that his brother would never in a million years ask for help. But he also knew that if he didn't help, Sans might do something he regretted.

He looked over at Sans, who was once again fast asleep with his head on the table next to his untouched spaghetti. Sighing, he picked up the plate and brought it over to the counter. It felt like he was forgetting something very, very important. Although, he always felt like that, so maybe it was nothing. But still it nagged at the back of his skull. He tried to think about what it might be, and thought back to his conversation with Sans. The lava incident. He had the strangest feeling he'd known at the time what it was, but now it seemed so far away- like a dream. Or a nightmare.

Shaking his head, he began tidying the kitchen. Each and every dish in its place, every fork, every knife- wait, no. He ducked down, searching underneath the counter. Nothing but dust bunnies and an empty spaghetti box. An unexplainable dread washed over him and he went over to the table, shaking Sans's shoulder.

"SANS," he said, and the older skeleton groaned. "HAVE YOU SEEN A KITCHEN KNIFE ANYWHERE?" Sans lifted his head up groggily and shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"nah, bro. but i'll keep a sharp lookout," he winked, and Papyrus groaned.

"YOUR PUNS WILL BE THE LITERAL DEATH OF ME, SANS."

* * *

That night, Papyrus lay awake. He stared at the ceiling, trying hard to remember what was missing from his memory. What could he possibly be forgetting that seemed so important?

Suddenly a flash of thought crossed his mind, and he saw two skeletons- one screaming, one crying. Too far apart, far too late. And then it was gone. He growled in frustration, striking his pillow.

The rest of the night passed peacefully, and he was at least grateful that Sans didn't have any nightmares. Although a small, selfish bit of him ached to have an excuse to comfort his brother, just to feel like he was being useful.

 **Argh, I know it's late and it's short. I must've redone the whole thing about seven times, I swear. -_-**

 **I know where it's going, and I have the general outline of it all planned out, so that's good, but I am still open to major changes as of yet. If it gets received well, I might be able to post more and sooner. (Hint, hint ;P)**


	4. Well, Right Now We're SANS One Knife

_The lava below him gurgled and churned. Papyrus's voice vaguely echoed in his skull, and he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or another sick reality. Why was he here again? He swayed on his slippered feet, watching the orange and red mass below him blur before his eye sockets. A little chunk of the platform he was on crumbled away to its doom. He wondered if bones exploded in lava like flesh did, then wondered how he knew the effect of lava on animal substance. There was Papyrus's voice again, taunting him. Papyrus was dead. And Sans was alive._

 _Was he? He could be burning in hell. It would be a fitting punishment, he supposed, for letting the talking flower kill his brother. How many times, again? He'd lost count at 200. And what had Sans done, but sit in his home agonizing over his own plights?_

 _He winced as a splash of magma flung itself at his skull, searing the side of his jaw._

 _"SANS!"_

Sans gasped, waking up in a feverish sweat. Something clanged on the floor beside him, and he saw the glint of the missing kitchen knife. He stuffed it back into his pocket, a sting of guilt rushing through him. He hated lying to his brother. Why had he even taken it in the first place? It wasn't like he could do what he used to do... He cursed his weakness, wishing his Hit Points could be at least a little bit higher.

His ulna ached, and he looked at it with a sick sense of longing, tracing the webbing of scars littering his arm.

He shook his head, turning his thoughts over to his nightmare. When had that happened? He knew it was important. He shut his eye sockets, thinking hard. Lava... Hotlands... He'd obviously had more than 1 HP, with those flecks of searing heat attacking him so often. That placed the memory before the days of Frisk, and probably at least twenty timelines before that.

And then there was that flower. That stupid, stupid flower. He'd forgotten about it in the midst of all the Frisk business, but now it seemed as though a flood of memories was invading his mind. He shuddered, curling into himself. It was evident he wouldn't be getting any more sleep. Now, it seemed, there was an entirely new set of nightmares to plague his nights. Ones of a wicked yellow face mirroring his own false grin but hiding entirely different intentions.

He looked down at the kitchen knife again. Maybe he'd indulge himself a little. He had a full 0.9 Hit Points left, after all...

 **Okay, so it's been an eternity since I updated last. Sorry. It's going to be hard setting things up for the rest of the plot, but as soon as I get further into the rising action it should be quicker. If not, my apologies in advance. I'm terrible at updating, heheh... -_-'**


End file.
